


The Crimson Door

by Somber_Resplendence



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Disney Smut, F/M, Fingering, Hypnotism, Secrets, Smut, So much smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somber_Resplendence/pseuds/Somber_Resplendence
Summary: The vizier had three wishes: one, to be the most powerful sorcerer and two, to secure the Kingdom of Agrabah. However, his third and final wish lay hidden behind a crimson door; and those who considered to unveil his secret would surely be consumed.





	The Crimson Door

She had been raised in royalty, heir of Agrabah's throne. Since she was a babe, her dark skin had been clothed in fine silks of vibrant colors of jade, violet, and her favorite, turquoise. In her youth, her mother would lead her out into the menagerie where a large fountain stood in the center, spewing water for the cooing doves. And it was the from the olive shrubs near the golden bird cages that her mother named her, Jasmine. But her mother was a weak creature and never lived to see Jasmine grow into a beautiful young woman.

Long, ebony locks swayed past her hips, which were decorated in gold chains and turquoise beads, and brown eyes fluttered, never ceasing to snatch the heart of every, arrogant and over-dressed suitor who came to her in hopes of winning her affections.

However, none ever succeeded.

"Father, you keep me like a bird in a cage. How can you expect me to love the first stranger you bring inside?"

"Do try to understand, Jasmine," the sultan, a rather small man with chubby cheeks hidden by a white beard, began, "The law may dictate certain aspects of your future, but you're the one with the choice, and you're running out of options."

"Well, perhaps I am tired of having to appeal to these men," she complained, crossing her arms and twisting her small lips into a grimace. The sultan sighed and brought a chubby, weary hand to his sweating forehead before calling for his royal vizier, Jafar. But Jasmine refused to linger a moment longer, for she had ill feelings toward Jafar. The mere mention of his name left her head pounding and her skin hot with fury.

"Wait," cried the sultan, stumbling off the throne and scurrying towards her. "If I do recall there is a young man by the name of—eh—Prince Ali Ababwa. He is to be here at dawn. He claims—"

"He claims," Jasmine continued, "that he is worthy of winning my heart. Father, I won't hear of it." She withdrew from her father and stormed off to her bed chambers where she threw herself upon the balustrade of the balcony, shedding tears of anger and resentment.

"How may I be of service to you, my lord," said Jafar, as he entered the throne room, the blunt end of his serpent staff clanking about the floor as he walked. He was a thin man, and his black garments only elongated his towering frame.

"My daughter refuses to marry," said the sultan. "I had hoped Prince Ali would make an impression on her, after all he is rather young."

"The boy is a thief, a street rat," said Jafar, running his slender fingers through his twisted, black beard. "I've heard many rumors, my lord. They say he is an imposter, a parasite latching onto those of good fortune and draining them of their riches."

"Oh, my," said the sultan twiddling his chubby fingers about as he frantically paced up and down the throne room, mumbling prayers under his breath and hoping for his trusted adviser to resolve the issue at hand. But Jafar's words were anything but resolving.

"It is not wise to expose the princess to Prince Ali's manipulations. Twisting the thoughts of the heir to the throne in order to gain supremacy is by far the highest act of treason. His cunning treachery and fraudulent ways should bring about a befitting punishment." He paused for a brief moment to stroke the red feathers of the bird that sat atop his shoulder before continuing his concern, "Surely, you agree?"

The lively bird repeated Jafar's last words in a gurgled voice, _Surely, you agree_ , causing the sultan to draw his biddy eyes to the feathered beast and smile.

"Such a pretty bird," he said as he reached into the folds of his ivory gown for the biscuit he had stowed away from supper. "Would the pretty bird care for a biscuit?"

"Be wary, my lord," said Jafar with an upraised hand, "Iago has quite the temper in the evening." The sultan paused, tossed the biscuit into his own mouth, and ran his chubby fingers through the Iago's feathers, leaving behind a few crumbs in the process and making the bird squawk in disgust.

"Now, then," Jafar began, thoughtfully musing over the glittering rubies upon his serpent staff, "What will your deliberation be?"

The sultan hesitated and returned to fiddling with his fingers. "Well, I suppose—eh—I'll have a deliberation by dawn."

"Oh, but dawn is such a long time from now, my lord," said Jafar, twirling his staff in such a fashion that the evening sunlight pouring in from the surrounding balconies ignited the rubies that served as the eyes of the serpent. The old man grew transfixed upon them, nearly blinded himself with their deathly glare, and fell still.

"You will order for Prince Ali's banishment," Jafar hissed, grinning as the sultan's pupils dilated until the whites of his eyes were blotted out. "His stolen treasures will be confiscated as payment to the Royal Family and Jasmine will wed me."

"I will order for Prince Ali's banishment. His stolen treasures will be confiscated as payment to the Royal Family and Jasmine will wed you," drawled the sultan, unaware of his decree.

* * *

Prince Ali had traveled far, using the Jordan River as his guide in hopes of earning Princess Jasmine's affections, but his plans had gone awry. And when the morning sun graced the Palace of Agrabah, he, the young boy whose faulty name hung from a trembling lie, was dragged from the palace like an old carpet being taken out for a beating and left in the desert to fend for himself.

But his stealthy pet, a monkey named, Abu, carried out his vengeance by attacking the man who had once led the faulty prince into the Cave of Wonders to retrieve a stolen treasure. Entering the palace through the menagerie, Abu terrorized the vizier, dug his claws into him and wailed as he scurried about his arms which were too slow to react to his fury. And when Jafar reached for his staff in an attempt to rouse the dark magic it wielded, Abu sunk his teeth into his hand and a loud clatter overwhelmed them both.

The mystic scepter was shattered.

"Feral beast!" cried Jafar, flicking the monkey off of him and sending it back to the streets of Agrabah from which he had come. He knelt before the multitude of fragments and began collecting the shards in his hands, which were trembling from the minuscule wounds each sharp piece inflicted upon him. But his efforts were in vain.

"Vizier," called a stocky guard, one whose height terrified the lesser man and whose ill-kept appearance frightened the orphans of the streets. "The boy's things have been collected."

He tossed a few coins onto a nearby desk along with a white, bejeweled hat which fell to the desk with a clunk. The brute guard furrowed his brows and maneuvered his large hands into the hat where he retrieved a golden lamp, one that instantly calmed Jafar's frustration.

"Give it to me!" he cried, rushing towards the guard and snatching the glimmering talisman from him, leaving the pieces of his staff far behind him. "Ah, in all my years of searching it's mine at last, and how marvelous that it finds me on this day." Grinning, he lifted his dark eyes to his guard, ran his fingers through his twisted beard, and ordered the guard to fetch the princess.

But she refused his orders with just as much spite as she refused his hand in marriage that evening upon her father's presentation of the ancient law, which, naturally, was given to him by Jafar. Since she had yet to choose a suitor and Prince Ali had been banished, her heart rested in the hands of the Royal Vizier, Jafar.

"I may be your wife by law but you will _never_ have my love," she said, pulling her hands away from his as they announced their vows before the people of Agrabah. But Jafar put away his thoughts about her anger and retired to his private dwellings.

"Genie," he said, gliding his fingers about the lamp in which a deep, cobalt smoke escaped and filled the air, "I wish to be the greatest sorcerer that ever lived."

A powerful wind shook the tower and combed through Iago's feathers, who had since taken to his master's shoulder in curiosity of what lay within the lamp, and certain powers flowed through Jafar's veins. It ignited him, drove him mad for power, and compelled him to ask for his second wish.

"Genie," he said with his fingers nearly digging into the fine gold of the lamp, "I wish for the prosperity of Agrabah to surpass all kingdoms."

Another roll of wind shook the tower and Iago squawked in despair, shielding his face with his feathers from the cloud of smoke that swirled about.

"Genie!" cried Jafar, eyes wide with excitement and teeth barred with the need for his desires to be fulfilled, clutching the lamp as if he were holding his very soul within his hands. "My third and final wish," he began, ignoring Iago's frantic squawks and the storm of feathers he roused.

However, his wish was not heard, for he spoke his ill-omened desire in a whisper, far lower than the voice of a mouse.

Iago was distraught. He nipped at his master's ear and pulled a few dark strands of his hair from out and underneath his headdress. Had he the power to speak, he'd have warned his master of such wishes, told him that the Genie was useless considering that his master was now the greatest sorcerer that ever lived.

But Jafar was no fool. He was a clever man, and his reasoning was just, for though he wielded the ultimate power of sorcery, his magic was dark and could never bring about happiness such as a prosperous future for Agrabah.

"Calm yourself, Iago," he said, bringing a slender finger to his smirking lips. "Our future is set. We only have to rid that blabbering old man and teach his wretch of a daughter a little respect." He mused over his dark vision and ran his fingers through Iago's flustered feathers before sending him on his way to fetch Jasmine.

And Jafar, wickedly laughing to himself, entered the main hall that sat outside the throne room and fixed his hands upon the crimson wall where a door lay hidden that neither Iago nor Jasmine had knowledge of. It was necessary that neither ever know, for what lay behind the crimson door was Jafar's third and final wish.  


* * *

_Six Years Later_

Time was no healing medicine, and Jasmine sulked in her loneliness, often wept in the dead of night when she assumed all of Agrabah was lost in a deep slumber. She'd bury her swollen eyes into the fur of her loving beast, Rajah, and mutter prayers. And though she'd have resorted to the comforting shoulder of her father, the old man had since passed with a dying whisper upon his lips.

Jafar, though a respected sultan in his rulings, failed to please Jasmine. However, though he deemed her wretched and rotten and often avoided her over the span of their marriage, six years was a long time and her beauty had grown with her maturity. She no longer spat fuming insults at him in the grand courts but triumphantly stood beside him in his rulings; and she no longer deemed him unfit for the throne, hurling belittling words at him, for she had come to respect his ruling over Agrabah, which was more prosperous than any and all kingdoms.

Nevertheless, her oath still stood unchanged; he would never have her love. Or so she thought.

Slouching upon the throne and running his fingers down Iago's back, Jafar remained unfazed by his men's excuses

"Sire, we've searched the streets and the thieves cannot be found," said one of the guards, a particularly short man with a thick mustache, Nabini.

"Had it not been for Nabini, we'd have had them," said another guard, sharply whipping his head towards the short man. "But he failed to suppress the boy with the diamond eye and they got away."

"Filthy liars!" cried Nabini as he swirled around and drew his sword upon his own men. "You're all conspiring against me—out to blame me for your own faults." He raised the blade and found that it shattered upon the sultan's flick of the wrist.

"Calm yourselves," Jafar drawled, "The thieves will return." He rose from the throne and parted the horde of dumbfounded guards as he sauntered past. "And if you are successful, I promise a handsome reward, march you all straight into the Cave of Wonders."

A few of the guards gaped at Jafar's words, blinded by the lust of greed, for the Cave of Wonders held true to its name. It was littered with treasures beyond comprehension, and legend swore that a golden lamp lay within. Although only one man had been able to deliver it from the cave and would have lived to tell the tale had the royal vizier not have persuaded the sultan for his head.

"Now, don't fail me again." He flicked his hand and a wave of black smoke wrapped around the guards, taking them with it in its descent to the city below the palace grounds. And Jafar, presently annoyed by the lack of obedience, sent Iago to fetch his wife, Jasmine.

It had been odd for her presence to be absent during the meeting with the palace guard, for she never missed an opportunity to overpower his word before the officials. Yet, that morning she declined joining him in the throne room and lectured him about her freedom. And it piqued his interest.

He assumed his faithful pet would either find her lounging in the menagerie, running her nimble fingers through Rajah's fur, or find her gone. And it wouldn't have been the first time she was caught acting against her word, for she had secrets far deeper than the dungeons underground.

Chuckling to himself, he envisioned her taking to the streets as she had so many times before, hidden beneath a ragged cloth as a means of going unrecognized by her faithful citizens. Though he never pursued her in her journeys, Iago always trailed close behind, keeping watch and reporting back to Jafar. He hadn't the voice to speak, but with an elegant twirl of his master's fingers his speech was able to be deciphered.

However, Iago had yet to return and Jafar was growing enraged, though his curiosity surpassed his fury. He took to the halls of the palace, muttering dark spells beneath his breath, and considered seeking her out himself. Heinous thoughts consumed him, compelled him to run down the halls, sick with the desire to catch her in her betrayal. He checked every room, turned over furniture with a mere wave of his hand, and brought down concealing curtains with a sneer. He even considered retiring to his private dwelling behind the crimson door, contemplated the thought of surrendering her to his third and final wish.

And like a flame being blown out, his fury was gone.

"Lo and behold," he drawled, entering the main hall, "my queen has been lying to me." A smirk emerged upon his face as Jasmine gasped at his voice and turned around to meet his hardened glare with her back pressed up against the red wall. "If I do recall, you were to be in the menagerie."

She scoffed and twisted her small lips into a frown, "You've been spying on me?"

"Of course not," he replied, nearing her and taking her hand in his own so as to place a kiss upon it in respect, but she sneered and drew away from him.

"Then why is Iago circling the palace?"

"He's quite fond of you—I cannot cease his affections."

"You're lying," she said as she slid her fingers along the wall behind her, searching for what she believed was ill-fate. "You have secrets and I will unearth them."

He grinned, "As so do you, my queen. Your midnight walks throughout the palace do not go unheard."

"Then you _have_ been spying on me—liar!" She exposed him with an outstretched finger and pursed her lips. She was a haughty thing. And six years, though long and able to chip away at her resentment for him, was still not enough to erase his eerie presence which always left her stomach churning.

"Where's the door?" she snapped, sharply turning around and crossing her arms, but only the crimson wall bid her greeting.

"Pardon?" Jafar questioned with an upraised brow, but she put his words behind her.

"I know it's here," she said, nearing the wall and running her palms along it in a means of seeking out a crack, a fold, anything. But her thoughts led her nowhere, and the wall laughed at her, mocked her in her confidence; and she, frustrated, tore her hands away and placed them on her hips with an exaggerated sigh.

"I saw you open it," she muttered bitterly, however, her fury subsided at the feeling of Jafar's hands running up her back and resting atop her bare shoulders where his fingers dug into her flesh. And as he pulled her long dark hair aside, tangling a hand within it, his lips nearly marked her neck as his own.

"So it seems that you have been spying on me in your midnight walks. Ill qualities, I must say. They've left you quite delusional."

"Silence!" she sneered, pulling away from him and directing a finger towards the wall, "Show me the door!" Fury spewed from her flared nostrils and her widened eyes carefully glanced back and forth between him and the supposed hidden door. But her anger was childish in his mind, and like a viper striking its prey, he snatched her by the wrists and relished her sharp cry as he pressed her chest upon the wall.

"I assure you, there is no door. Perhaps your own delusion has led you to think so," he said, warm breath heating the nape of her neck as he pulled her into his narrow frame where a dark yearning lingered. "And should I find you lurking about again, generosity, my queen, will not be given."

"You don't scare me," she sneered, struggling beneath his wiry frame.

"But perhaps your own curiosity will," he said, allowing the wall before her to give away where the darkness of the room behind it beckoned her to come inside. She grasped him in fear of falling forward and he relished her need for him, temporary as it was.

"What is this place?" she questioned as she entered the room. Her voice echoed about and the walls seemed to disappear into darkness as if the room carried on forever, limitless and vast. But it was not desolate. A small, wooden chest lay in what Jasmine assumed was the center of the room, and she pondered its existence as well as the heavy lock that fastened it shut.

Jafar neared her from behind, set his hands atop her shoulders, and pulled her dark hair back yet again as he leaned into her with two words upon his lips,

"Your future."

She'd have questioned his words had the lock upon the wooden chest not have fallen and stirred her suspicions. It lay upon the ground and melted into a puddle. But it was not as fascinating as the chest which opened upon its own accord where a gold, ruby-eyed snake slithered out and made its way to her.

Gasping, she withdrew from the menacing reptile, falling backward into Jafar's odd, welcoming arms. He held her steady, whispered calming words in her ears, and extended out an arm to the golden beast, calling it forth with a small gesture of his finger. She attempted to protest, but Jafar clasped his other hand about her lips as the slithering snake took heed of his words.

It swirled and coiled up her legs, passed in between them where it rubbed its scales along her cunt, and inched its way up her exposed stomach before stopping at her grief-stricken face. Barring its fangs, it struck her neck and sent a dark and unruly venom throughout her body, one of which numbed her state of mind and left her in a trance, completely at Jafar's mercy. But he was without mercy, and a curt grin grew upon his face as dark thoughts whizzed in his mind, for his loneliness had lasted six years and such deep yearnings were impossible to suppress.

His lips brushed against the soft flesh of her neck and greedily devoured her, leaving a trail of swollen, red marks upon her. "Now, my queen," he started in a hoarse voice as the slithering snake coiled in the palm of his hand before straightening and stiffening into a staff, "you will bow before me without protest and take what I give you."

Like a servant following orders, she fell to her knees and kissed his feet. And although the satisfaction of witnessing her obedience sent a surge of pleasure throughout him, it was not compared to the immense pleasure that consumed him when he relieved his throbbing member of the dark garment in which he wore and slipped it between her teasing lips, engulfing her mouth that had back talked him one too many times.

"Yes," he drawled, slowly sliding his thick length in and out of her hot and hungry mouth, "drink every drop until it is the only thing you crave." She nodded in response and attempted to speak, but found that his cock was much too far down her throat and his hands were much too tangled within her hair.

His fingers grazed her scalp, painful and pleasurable as it was, as he guided his stiffness deeper and deeper into her, allowing her nose to kiss his lower abdomen with each pump. And when his cock began to pulsate within her mouth, tickling her tongue with the promise of release, no amount of time was given to her to speak, for he plunged himself back into her mouth again, again, and again.

He was relentless.

Only when the morning sun graced Agrabah did he allow her to rest and deliver her to her bed chambers where she awoke with a sore throat and an unusual taste in her mouth. She pondered last night's events but was left with a blank vision in her mind and sought him out in her confusion.

"Jafar," she called in a raspy voice, stumbling into the main hall and crossing towards the throne room in which he lurked.

"My queen," he exclaimed, placing a hand upon his chest in fright, "Whatever are you doing out of bed? You must rest." A few palace officials, who also lurked about the throne room, drew their eyes to her in astonishment. Some lifted trembling hands to their lips and others studied the blistering red marks upon her flesh. Nevertheless, their attention struck Jasmine odd.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned as she glanced about the dumbfounded palace officials who found it hard to cast down their eyes. Even Iago, standing tall atop Jafar's shoulder, found it hard to draw his biddy eyes away from her and squawked in despair.

"Why, last night you were attacked. Had you forgotten?" He wrapped a thin arm around her shoulders and drew her into his body, but she instantly pushed him away with wide eyes.

"What?"

Bewilderment snatched her and all the air in her lungs was quickly stolen by the Reaper himself, for she found Jafar's statement unusual and dared to deem it untrue.

"Ah, you _have_ forgotten," he said, placing a thin hand upon his cheek in concern. "Unfortunate as it is, my queen, you were attacked by some ill-fated street rat—even held a stolen diamond for an eye." He brushed his fingers through her hair and exposed the dark, red whelps upon her neck. The lingering officials gasped and withdrew from the two rulers, summoning a cry of distraught from Jasmine.

She fled from them, retired to her bed chambers, and wept as she gazed at her reflection, cursing each and every whelp covering her body. But Jafar was not keen on having her shed tears and entered her room with comforting words.

"I don't remember it," she said through her tears, "I don't remember any of it."

"And neither does he," said Jafar, "He was gutted like a pig and sentenced to death by beheading."

Jasmine, too frightened to dare imagine the execution, said nothing. And while her memory failed her, she couldn't help but to allow a soft warmness to bloom within her from Jafar's protection, odd as it may have seemed. However, the venom that soared through her was not idle, and when Agrabah surrendered to its slumber that night, Jafar had Jasmine in his clutches yet again, secretly stowed behind the crimson door.

"Show me how much you love me," said Jafar, seated upon a golden chair that was formed from a thousand stiff, golden serpents. She complied, ran her hands up the curve of her body, and peeled off her royal garments, revealing her naked form to him: plump breasts and wide hips. A serpent coiled about her naked form, slithering and hissing as she drew its flickering tongue to her lips for a kiss.

"Come," he called with the gesture of a finger, and she obeyed, slowly crawling about the floor with a fiendish smile, abandoning the serpent. She clawed at his throne, climbed atop him, and rubbed her cunt along his fine garments, summoning a growl from him. And when he placed a hand beneath her dripping entrance, tickling her clit and gently prodding her slit with the tip of his finger, she moaned his name upon a broken whisper and nuzzled her face within the crook of his neck.

But those were not his orders.

Smirking, he twirled his other hand in her hair, forcefully pulled her head back so as to expose her neck, and ran his tongue along her flesh. Before he could order her to beg him for his cock, she whimpered before him at the feeling of his spindly fingers working in and out of her and removed the red sash about his waist, searching for his growing erection. Her soft hands wrapped around it and slowly pumped it until he found it necessary to pull her down atop it.

Her cries echoed about the room as he began to work himself in and out of her, carefully rising from his seat in order to meet her dripping cunt. But her pleasurable screams, heightening with every thrust, never stirred a soul, for their gratifying encounter behind the crimson door, the delightful, sexual acts that were carried out for a thousand nights, were unknown and unheard.

But they were questioned.

"I don't understand why I ache," Jasmine complained one morning upon meeting various guards in the throne room. She rubbed at her shoulders and eased her way into her seat as if frightened from the very act of sitting. Her legs were weak and her upper thighs burned and throbbed as she sat down. However, it was the pulsating nub of flesh between her legs which agonized her the most, for it had been sucked and pinched until it was swollen and as crimson as the door in which it had been tortured behind.

"Queen Jasmine," said Nabini, scurrying towards her and dropping to his knees in respect. He bowed before her and placed his chubby hands upon her feet. "Oh, how grateful I am for your living."

"Living?" she questioned with furrowed brows.

"Yes," said Nabini, lifting his biddy eyes to her and furiously nodding his head. "Had he not have caught you, you'd had fallen over."

"Silence, fool!" snapped another guard who had heard too much. He snatched Nabini by the arm and began dragging him away until Jasmine rose (with much pain) to her feet and demanded for him to halt.

"Who caught me—what did I fall over?"

"The balcony!" cried Nabini.

"Silence!" cried the guard, raising his other arm as if to strike him, but Jasmine's authoritative voice spared Nabini the hit,

"By order of the Queen, you will tell me everything I wish to know." Twisting her small lips into a grimace, she crossed her arms with a scoff.

"Well," the guard started hesitantly, glancing down at Nabini every now and then, "We saw you dangling from the balcony last night." Nabini furiously nodded in agreement as the guard continued, "We ran to your cries, ready to catch you should you have fallen, but Jafar pulled you back over the balustrade. Perhaps, that is why you ache."

For a moment, Jasmine was silent. However, her slight flick of the wrist sent the guards back to their duties as she, determined to unveil what she hadn't known, sought out Jafar in a mix of anger and confusion. But when she found him lounging in the menagerie, tending to a dove that had a broken wing, all anger was lost.

"You should be resting," said Jafar, as he ran his fingers through the dove's feathers, summoning a gentle coo from it.

"Why didn't you tell me about last night, about the balcony?"

"I merely didn't want to frighten you. After all, I had warned you about your midnight walks throughout the palace, though I never imagined you'd stumble."

"Well," she started in a scoff, "I suppose I—I—owe you my gratitude." Her tone softened, and as she bid herself a quick glance at the balcony above, taking in it's terrifying height, she uncrossed her arms and placed them behind her back in humbleness.

"You're most gracious, my queen," said Jafar, still transfixed upon the cooing dove. His response struck her odd, for he had always craved her appreciation, sought out to win her affections with lavish gifts. Yet, though he had issued his guards to rescue her from a diamond-eyed street rat in the middle of the night and snatched her away from the balcony before she fell, he failed to gloat. He neither held his head high nor told her of his gracious deeds, saving her more than once from the clutches of death in which she hadn't remembered a detail of.

And though odd as his lack of arrogance was, she enjoyed it.

"You care for it?" she questioned, glancing between him and the dove.

"Why yes," he replied with a slight nod, "Iago once had a broken wing, and he stayed ever since. He had—"

His speech was cut short as she neared him and pulled him into a kiss, one that felt strangely familiar; one that was longed for in the silence of the night. And when she pulled away from him with furrowed brows, Jafar started with a grin,

"Hmm, that was—"

But his needless words were silenced yet again as she pressed her lips onto his and tasted him, for she deemed his familiar touch to be the touch of love. And though she hadn't wanted to admit that the warm feelings she felt inside bloomed for him and him alone, it was painfully obvious that he not only lived up to her father's dying expectations of a husband but cared for her and sought out her safety.

* * *

Within the silence of the night, Jafar's guards lurked about the dingy alleys, the ones that were called home by the street rats and sanctuary by the daylight thieves. However, he was neither after a street rat nor a thief, but a boy who hid himself within the dirt of poverty and held a peculiar diamond in his possession.

"Find him," Jafar hissed, summoning snickers from his men, especially that of Nabini who had already failed to suppress the boy who ran off with the diamond. They prowled the streets, drew their swords, and peered into what seemed like abandoned homes. Yet, though many windows were dark and doors were left ajar, the guards knew that shivering souls lingered inside, afraid that their necks would be sliced should they be found.

"Over there," whispered one of the guards, pointing a finger to a home which had no door. Slight movement echoed about inside and the guards grinned as they neared the makeshift building, pinning their backs against the crooked walls. Each of them whispered orders back and forth and Nabini grew excited, too excited.

His trembling hands lost grip of his sword and it fell to the ground with a loud clank. The other men stiffened and Jafar, who watched overhead, inwardly cringed and grit his teeth. Nabini remained still, attempted to reach for his weapon with his foot, but thought better of it at the sound that came from within the home.

The boy ran.

He soared past the guards who waited outside and nearly toppled over Nabini who tried to reach for him with his stubby arms. But before he could take another step, a cloud of black smoke entangled him and he surrendered to a gurgled cough. The guards were quick to act, strangled the boy and pinned him to the ground, shoving his face into the dirt in which he was made of.

A nauseating laugh numbed him and he trembled under the foul voice, gazed up at the nearing figure with a gleaming eye—a diamond eye.

"How delightful," said Jafar, approaching the helpless boy upon his dark horse. "You've given me plenty of trouble, boy. But I always win." Chuckling to himself, he continued, "Now, take it from him."

A blood-curdling scream filled the night as a dagger was unveiled. The boy scrambled beneath the guards, crying and shouting for help as the blade cut into his eye socket, removing the bloodied diamond that Jafar had long searched for, the All-Seeing Diamond.

"Do not fret, boy," said Jafar, cleaning the jewel of blood, "Your sufferings will soon end and you've your queen to thank, for I'd have let you live. But, as it seems, your head must be taken, for you betrayed her, attacked her in the dead of night."

"Blasphemy!" cried the boy, "I've done no such thing!"

"Ah, but I've already told the queen that you have," said Jafar, gesturing for his men to carry out the execution. And when the boy's blood spilled, Jafar chuckled and issued the diamond to Iago who sat atop his shoulder in silence, grinning (if birds could grin) at the heinous crime before him.

"Take it to the palace," he ordered. And before the midnight hour came about, Jafar retired to his private bed chambers, retrieved the diamond, and turned the jewel in such a fashion that a glimmering image was produced. He watched the vision, mouth agape in shock, and damned his accursed wife, Jasmine, for she lingered about the main hall with her hands fixed upon the wall in search for what he deemed unnecessary to share with her unless she was subject to the powerful venom that had long since lingered in her body.

"Wretch," he sneered, shoving the diamond into the folds of his dark garment as he followed suit after her.

Ravenous, she pushed her weight upon the wall before her, ran her nails across it, and cursed its existence. However, her fury was soon dispelled upon his approach.

"You never showed me what was behind the door," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. She had attempted to remember the world behind the crimson door, but could never produce an image, only a blank vision came to mind, a black abyss. And now that she had learned to trust him, she tried to lure his secrets into the light.

"Ah, but I did," said Jafar with a grin. "In fact, I've shown you many times before. But I suppose one bite was not enough to keep you unaware of your plight."

She furrowed her brows and opened her mouth in response but was silenced by the swift motion of his hand, allowing the crimson wall before her to move at his will. She peered within the dark room, hesitated to enter, and was ultimately pulled inside by Jafar as he whisked her in his arms and exposed her to the world behind the crimson door.

And he, set upon not allowing her to return to her haughty, hateful ways, called forth a golden, serpent from a wooden chest. It rose for him, slithered at his command and Jasmine, fear-stricken and aware of his cruel dealings, frantically squirmed about in his hold. She recognized the golden reptile, and like a wave overwhelming a peaceful village, the memory of the serpent's first bite clouded her mind and sent her screaming and kicking in fear and fury.

"Calm yourself," Jafar said from behind, tightening his hold upon her, "for I have not used it since the first night."

"You tricked me," she said in a small voice, unable to look away from the golden beast that slowly made its way towards her.

"I did nothing of the sort. You came here upon your own freewill, whether the venom lingered or not was none of my concern. After all, it's about time you start bending to my will, act as a wife should, and comply to my wishes."

"You liar," she sneered, tearing away from his hold and narrowing her dark eyes upon him.

He smirked, "No, you lied to yourself."

"I was never attacked, was I?" she started, irate, "The boy with the diamond—"

"The boy was real, that I assure you of, my queen. And he was beheaded for his crimes, numerous as they were." He removed a glittering jewel from his dark gown and firmly placed it with her trembling hands. A bit of dry blood was crusted upon the sharp edges and she realized that her diamond-eyed attacker had surely been executed for his crime. And when the thought of the sword being brought down upon him entered her mind, she screamed and threw the jewel.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," she said, bringing her hands to her face in despair as if hiding her face was equal to that of hiding her sorrows from her mind.

"Believe me," Jafar said, nearing her with comforting arms, "and believe in my power." But she refused him, withdrew from his embrace, and silently wept over her own ignorance.

"This was your way of changing me," she whimpered in between tears of rage and betrayal, putting away the thoughts of her and him sharing a kiss in the menagerie yesterday.

"Does autumn not change the summer leaves? Beautiful as they are—yes—but nothing is more beautiful than an obedient wife."

"I was never your wife," she snapped, deserting her sorrows and returning to the warmth of hatred she had always held for him, however, he hadn't intended on letting her return to such childishness and relied upon the venom that still soared through her veins, idle as it was in that heated moment.

"You were my wife the day you tasted my lips upon our wedding day and you will obey me as a wife should," he said with a wicked grin, running his fingers through the loose strands of hair that fell before her flustered face. "And when the dawn wakes your aching body, I'll be there to soothe your pain."

Calling forth his golden serpent which was only one bite away from sending her into total oblivion, he ordered, "Now, lay with me."

And she did.


End file.
